


Two's A Gang

by MacButton



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Achievement Hunter Heists, Dom Ryan Haywood, Dom/sub, F/M, Fake AH Crew, Female Reader, GTA AU, Geoff Ramsey - Freeform, Guns, Heist, Jack Pattillo - Freeform, Kidnapping, Oral Sex, Protective Ryan Haywood, Reader Insert, Sex, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Vagabond, Vaginal Sex, daddy - Freeform, gavin free - Freeform, hostage, michael jones - Freeform, ryan haywood - Freeform, shootout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-01-31 14:58:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18593611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacButton/pseuds/MacButton
Summary: Reader thinks it's a normal day at the bank, but the Fake AH Crew is proficient in the art of screwing everything up.





	1. Chapter 1

The decorative clock on the bank’s north wall ticked away at a snail’s pace. You loathed coming to the bank during the lunch hour, as it was always packed to the rafters with nine-to-fivers. However, since you were part of that less-than-elite club, you needed to get your banking done before the day concluded. Stuck in the corner of the red rope line, you leaned against the desk filled with deposit slips and chained pens, contemplating your existence. 

The familiar sound of the bank’s front door bell chimed in quick succession, so you turned to the welcomed distraction. A line of individuals in dark clothes hurried inside and adorned black masks almost immediately. Your heart beat jumped to a fast pace, and your stomach sank at the realization the bank was being robbed. 

“Everybody down on the ground!” A man’s deep voice bellowed. He shot off a few rounds from his rifle into the air, making some bits of the ceiling rain down. 

You immediately dropped to the ground and covered the back of your neck with your hands in defense. You looked out of your periphery to see the criminals’ boots shuffling nearby, while screams of terrified customers rang out. Mass confusion erupted as the shouting only amplified the fear of those around you. 

“Crowd control! Get them behind the counters! We’re going for the bank manager,” a different voice shouted. 

“Got it! We’ve got ‘em,” the another voice thick with a British accent answered. The boots came closer in view as they directed their orders to the group of customers - including yourself. 

“Get up!” One commanded. “Leave everything on the floor and walk with your hands above your head to the teller counter and sit down facing the lobby!” 

It took some doing and light shoving from the assailants, but the lot of you eventually made your way to the counter as instructed. You plopped down, finally getting a look at the robbers. A pair of them adorned the same style of mask, while the third had a black mask decorated with a terrifying skull facade. The character with the skull mask was taller and broader than the other two and was carrying the only shotgun among them. One of the men came forward, slinging his gun around his back, hanging by the strap while he produced some zip ties. 

“Alright, hands together,” he simply directed. He made quick work of each of you until you were all bound and accounted for. A few of the customers were crying and begging to be released, but the men turned deaf ears to their pleas. You kept your gaze trained on the floor, afraid to meet any of their faces. 

“Let’s work on getting the teller boxes open,” one of the men said to the bloke tying your hands.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Geoff and Jack to get back?” the man with the British accent inquired. 

“Idiot!” the first one said. “We said no names!” 

“Shit!” the British one said regretfully as he followed the first to work on breaking open the cash boxes.

“You can be a real fucking moron, you know that!?” the first one shouted. “ _Everyone_ heard that. Now what do we do?” 

“I’m on a murder break,” the man with the skull mask interjected. “Don’t ask me to start shooting.” A few of the hostages cried out at the mention of death, but you kept quiet, your eyes barely scanning the man with the skull mask’s back and forth pace in front of you. 

“Got the manager!” said one of the pair that had left beforehand. You weren’t sure whether this one was Jack or Geoff. “We can start on cracking the safe.”

“Genius over here said your names! We’re fucked!” the angry assailant complained. 

“Gav!” Jack or Geoff shouted. You couldn’t resist the melodrama and slyly eyed the witless criminals. 

“I didn’t say _my_ name! Bloody hell!” the British man named Gav returned. 

“This whole op is going to shit!” Jack or Geoff said, rubbing his forehead through his mask. You snickered to yourself, holding your hand over your mouth to mask the noise. These must have been the most dimwitted bank robbers in the history of Los Santos. 

“Well, let’s continue according to the plan,” he continued. “Move the hostages to one of the rooms in the back. You’d better take one to the vault with us now, though. We’re going to need a bargaining chip should something happen.” He turned to Gav and pointed his rifle casually, “Thanks a lot, dumbass.” 

Gav made a squeaking noise in response, while the angry one slung the duffle bag full of cash from the teller’s boxes over his shoulder. The four of them were in front of the group, ordering you all to stand and move in a line. The man with the skull mask walked alongside you, keeping you on the straight and narrow to your new prison. 

“In here’s good,” the one with the skull mask said, pointing his shotgun at the door of a conference room. He stopped at the entrance, ushering the lot inside. When you tried to pass, however, he grabbed your arm to keep you from advancing. 

“Not you, sweetheart,” he declared. “You’re coming with us.” 

Your stomach sank as you bumped against his large frame. Every scenario of survival raced through your mind, but none of them had a positive outcome, prompting your body to quake. Your anxiety manifested in nothing more than a small squeak. 

“Hey, hey,” he scolded. “No time for that. We’re about to be rich. You’re the girl who’s lucky enough to watch it happen.” 

After locking the rest of the hostages inside and threatening violence should any of them try to escape, the man with the skull mask lead you by your elbow clumsily down the hall behind the rest of the crew. Winding around corners, you looked up at your obscenely large captor with tear-brimmed eyes. 

“Please,” you hummed in a gossamer tone. “Please let me go. I swear I won’t speak a word of this to anyone. I won’t go to the police or anything, I promise.” Your voice quivered pathetically, but you couldn’t help but let fear overtake now that you were firmly separated from the safety of the rest of the group. 

The brute looked down at you, his icy blue eyes a stark contrast against the deep black of his under-mask makeup. His gaze almost seemed sympathetic, but he readjusted the grip on your arm without a response. 

You crossed the threshold of the outer door to the vault thanks to the bank manager’s access code and found a couple of the crew planting packages around various points of the inner door. 

_Explosives._

“Alright we should still have a few more minutes before one of the hostages calls the cops. Let’s get this open,” Jack or Geoff said. 

“That’s why Vagabond’s got insurance,” the angry one said, pointing at you. “With her, the cops won’t fucking touching us.”

“Welcome to the party, love!” Gav quipped. 

You gulped as you met the eyes of each of the felons, quietly trying to contemplate a method of escape. Vagabond pushed you aside, positioning you behind a large marble column. 

“Don’t even _think_ about moving,” he threatened with his gaze narrow. “He’s gonna blow that door, and your ears are going to ring like a bell.” Your knuckles were white while you clutched the cold divot in the design. 

“Explosives are set!” A voice you didn’t recognize called out to the others. 

The rest of the group rushed to find cover behind nearby obstructions, and Vagabond leaned against the column with you. A rough hand in hair pressed your head against his chest, and Vagabond enveloped you with his meaty arms. Your fingers gripped his leather jacket when the shouting continued. 

“5! 4! 3! 2! 1!”

The entire building seemed to rumble as the boom rang out. You screamed and the tears started flowing, the only certainty you weren’t actually dead. You sobbed lightly while Vagabond abandoned you to follow the crew to the vault. They heaved the door open, and you peeked around the column to watch them distribute duffel bags to fill with money. 

One of them sat outside of the vault to stare at his watch and act as a timekeeper while the others laid their guns down to address the task at hand. They stacked piles of cash expertly inside the bags while you watched in fascination at their practiced dance. Each one had a job and was executing it flawlessly. 

You blinked when you realized no one was paying attention to you. At least twenty feet away from the commotion, this was your chance to run. It would be your only shot, but you didn’t want to bank on the kindness of kidnappers. You took a cursory step backward, trying to make the motion as fluid and undetected as possible. It worked, so you took another, and silently thanked your former self for selecting sneakers this morning. It would make this much easier. 

You took several deep breaths as your heart thumped wildly in your chest with anticipation of your next move. Turning suddenly, you sprinted down the hallway, following the path you were lead in reverse toward the bank’s lobby. Several howls rang out behind you, echoing off of the vaulted ceiling. 

“Fuck! Hostage is running!” 

“Go after her!” 

“I’ve got her!” 

You wailed as the sound of heavy boots thudded behind you. You glanced back to see a dark figure following your trail like a predator stalking his prey. 

It was Vagabond.

“Help! Please! Anyone!” you called out helplessly. You strafed to the side, pulling down vases and miscellaneous items to hopefully impede his path. Still, he continued, jumping over the obstructions with ease. His stride was nearly a foot longer than yours as he closed the distance. 

You were a few turns away from the lobby, but he was hot on your tail. The tears that fell started impeding your vision when met with the rushing air, and you stumbled over your own feet, falling to the floor, defeated. Vagabond clutched his shotgun in one hand and towered over you, letting you dwell in your panic and regret. 

“Please don’t kill me!” you begged. “I’m sorry!” 

He growled and bent forward, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you with ease. You stood on shaky legs and searched for mercy in the monster’s eyes. 

“I’m not going to kill you, honey,” he said in a gravel voice. “But I really wish you didn’t run. That wasn’t very nice. Now we have to walk all the way back to--” 

Vagabond’s words were interrupted by a single shot. It hit the wall near his head, and you screamed in response. He ducked behind a nearby row of filing cabinets, and he pulled you with him, his body in front of yours. 

“This is the Los Santos Police! We have you surrounded! Put your weapons down and your hands up!” 

You twitched with joy, your heart leaping at the thought of being rescued and putting this nightmare behind you. Vagabond snarled and called out loud enough for the officers to hear through his mask. 

“I have a hostage! If you take one step, I’ll blow her brains out!” 

He turned to you and winked. “I’m not really gonna,” he promised. “Just play along with me for a while, would you?” 

Vagabond stood and grabbed the zip tie around your hands, spinning your backside against his immovable torso. Your legs gave way when he pressed the shotgun into your temple, so he held you up by your waist. The parties shouted back and forth, neither really opting to step down. It was all a dull hum to your ears. You were sure this is how it would end. 

Multiple shots resounded in the open lobby, and you shut your eyes to escape the reality. The cold steel of the barrel of Vagabond’s shotgun was still against your head, but he stopped yelling. Instead, he was swearing under his breath as he pushed you against the wall. He pressed his body flush against yours, pinning your hands against his leg solidly. 

You didn’t notice you were screaming until Vagabond hushed you. At this angle, you could only look into his eyes for answers. His eyes darted in the direction of the firefight. 

“The police,” you said with tremble in your voice. “W-why are they shooting? I thought they don’t shoot at hostages.” 

“ _Police_ don’t,” his tone was more concerned than before. “But it’s not the cops.”

“Vagabond!” a voice bellowed. “Show yourself you _sonofabitch_!” 

Vagabond sighed and tilted his head upward to answer, “I’m a little busy right now, Wolfe! You’ll have to come back after I sorted out the domestic dispute with my hostage!” 

“You’re on MY turf, and you have the nerve to _refuse_ me?” he challenged. “Get the fuck out here and face me like a man!” 

You groaned at the thought of another pissing contest between two prideful parties. Vagabond looked down at you at the expression of your verbal annoyance and rubbed your head caringly, strangely enough. 

“I know, what a tool, right?” he agreed. “You’ll be okay. Just stick with me.” He held the zip tie between your hands and lead you behind, moving further into the lobby than before.

You stumbled over the bodies of police officers strewn about. Any threat they once posed now extinguished by a rival gang and its equally mad leader. You bit your lip and hid your face in Vagabond’s side as respite. He clutched you closer as an instinct. 

“ _There_ you are, you fucking weasel,” Wolfe started. “I ought to gun you and that little bitch down for turning over a bank in my part of town. Teach you a lesson in respect.” 

Vagabond voice a gutteral dissent after Wolfe defamed you. “No need to get rude. We’re all professionals here.” 

“Professionals?” Wolfe protested. “You and your crew are nothing more than two-bit imposters.” You heard Ryan growl in his throat, so you glanced up to see a fire smoldering in his eyes.

“Fine,” he said through what you recognized as gritted teeth. “We’ll leave the money and go back to _our_ side of town. Back off.”

Wolfe narrowed his gaze and uncrossed his arms, pointing accusingly at Vagabond. “If you think I’m going to let you and your band of misfits just walk out of here, you’re even stupider than I thought.” The fire in Vagabond’s eyes burned red hot as he addressed you, directly, ignoring the myriad of rival gang members. 

“Well,” he said in a frightfully calm tone. “I guess my murder break is over.”

Vagabond shoved you to the ground behind a desk while he started the assault on the gang, firing and hitting a number of the opposing criminals. You ducked your head down, covering the back of your neck from yet another death scare. He was shouting all the while, a primal noise his war cry. You peeked up at him, secretly admiring his chivalry in the moment.

A bullet whizzed by and Vagabond withstood the graze without hesitation. He offed the man who dared try to end his career with his final shotgun blast. Then, he dropped to the floor and gathered new weapons - a pistol and a rifle - from a nearby body, resting against the desk next to you. He checked the magazine to ensure it was fully loaded, pulling the cylinder back to load a bullet in the pistol’s chamber. 

“You ever shoot a gun before?” He inquired. Your eyes widened, and you shook your head. He handed the weapon to you indicating key elements with his finger.

“Hold it here, point it there, pull that trigger,” he instructed, turning again to the offense and firing a few rounds. 

“I-I can’t shoot a gun!” you protested. 

“I’m not dying today, sweetheart,” he answered with firm eyes. “I don’t think you want to, either. Just do your best. We’ve gotta find a window outta here.” 

You turned to kneel facing the desk, clumsily holding the grip of the pistol because your hands were still zip tied. You couldn’t bring yourself to actually look over and aim, so you closed your eyes and squeezed the trigger. It resounded and recoiled forcefully. 

“Good,” Vagabond praised. “Keep doing that.” 

The pair of you exchanged fire with the interrupting gang, but Vagabond was the most valuable criminal in your impromptu squad, expertly directing his rifle around the room and silencing their shots. Voices called out, but the shooting ceased. Vagabond eased his rifle down and grabbed the pistol from your hands, throwing it aside. 

“Alright, this is our window,” he revealed. “Let’s go.” He gripped your hand this time, and you struggled to keep up with his pace as you ran around the halls toward the vault. When you passed it, you looked inside briefly. 

“Your bag,” was all you could manage. 

“The guys will have grabbed it. We need to keep moving,” he finished. 

You stumbled as you followed him up the stairs until you reached the roof access. Vagabond bumped open the door with his hip, and your eyes struggled to adjust to the intruding sunlight.

“This way,” he pointed, still holding your hand as he lead you to the edge of the building. He shot the lock off of the gate protecting the ladder with access to the alleyway below, but you couldn’t avoid the noise of the swirling police helicopters above. The rustling of chains directed your attention to the street, where you saw a tank rolling toward your position as though it was a battlefield.

“Um, Vagabond,” you mumbled, pointing at the incoming artillery. The tank stopped just south of the bank and the barrel chugged as it turned in your direction. 

“Shit!” he swore when he recognized the danger. “Get down!” 

Vagabond dove on top of you, laying you flat against the gravel covered roof. The barrel exploded and the high velocity round sailed passed, nailing a police helicopter just overhead. The chopper whirred and struggled to stay aloft, swinging wildly as it slowly fell from the sky. As quickly as he shoved you to the ground, Vagabond yanked you up and squeezed you through the gate of the ladder. He followed just above, abandoning the rifle he held and opting for a narrow escape.

The helicopter impacted on a building nearby, making the ladder jostle and your ill-placed fingers slip. You started to fall from the ladder when another blast from the tank’s gun propelled, hitting the building adjacent to the bank. It sent shockwaves, knocking the ladder and part of the bank building loose. One final shot from the tank exploded the building entirely, sending you and Vagabond crashing through three stories of debris. 

You hit the bottom floor before you finally blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thrilling conclusion!

When you stirred awake, a dirty blonde haired man was kneeling over you, holding the side of your face. You blinked several times and raised your still-tied hands to rub your eyes free of the burn. You were covered in dirt and grime, and, when you saw the man with clear vision, you could see his bright blue eyes amidst smeared, black makeup. 

It was Vagabond. 

You turned your head to see his mask discarded. Vagabond squeezed your shoulder and turned your head back to look him in the eyes. He was pretty handsome, actually. Not at all what you pictured was lying beneath the terrifying exterior. 

“Hey, are you alright?” he inquired with concern. 

You sat up, your head spinning. Rips and tears in your jeans barely hid scrapes and the sleeves on your shirt revealed a similar fate. Bruises littered your body, and you were sure you sprained your ankle. Taking in your surroundings, you and Vagabond were in what you assumed was the building next door to the bank, but there was debris blocking all of the exits, so you couldn’t be certain. 

“I’m fine. Are you okay?” You asked. “You were shot.” You pointed to where the bullet grazed, and Vagabond opened his jacket for a better look. 

“Yeah, I’ll be good,” he assured. “I’ve had worse. I’m more concerned about this cut on your head. Does it hurt?” He pressed gently on the side of your head, and you winced. You brought your own hand up to feel where he identified. It was deeper than the scrapes on your legs, but nothing that wouldn’t heal in time. 

“Seriously, I’m okay,” you returned. Vagabond raised his hands up in defeat, and plopped back on his bottom, resting his head against a collapsed part of the wall and closing his eyes. 

“So, what do we do now?” you asked.

“I suppose we wait,” he answered. 

“But, shouldn’t we try to get out?” you pressed. Vagabond lifted his head and raised an eyebrow. 

“If you see a way out, please, lead the charge,” he challenged. “Someone’s bound to come around and clean up the mess a _tank_ left behind.” 

You brought your knees to your chest and rested your chin on them. Just as before, you were stuck. This time, however, you were stuck with a murder, alone. You twisted your hands in the zip ties, desperately seeking comfort. Since the fall, the plastic moved and was pinned permanently lower on your hands rather than your wrists, cutting painfully into the broadest part. 

“Here,” Vagabond said, revealing a large knife from his pocket. You straightened, but held your hands out for closer inspection, letting him easily slice you free. You rubbed your hands where the marks were already set in deep. 

“Thanks,” you expressed with genuine gratitude. 

“Gav always puts them on too tight. I’ve tried to tell him for years,” he commented as he folded his knife closed and tucked it away. 

“Yeah, he seemed kind of daft,” you joked. Vagabond chuckled and nodded. 

“The guy has always been a handful,” he agreed. He unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of it, unveiling a dark tee shirt with a blood stain on the side. He held his hand over the patch and pressed, inhaling through his teeth.

“Whoa, hold on,” you said, shuffling toward him on your knees. You hovered your hand over the area and gave him questioning eyes. “Why don’t you let me have a look?” you suggested. You pinched his tee shirt and pulled it out of the waistband of his jeans, gently easing it up to reveal the wound. The bullet took off a chunk of his skin and left a raw area, the blood just barely seeping to the edge. 

“You’re gonna need stitches,” you warned. 

Vagabond shrugged, “Wouldn’t be my first set.” 

“Can I at least put something over it?” you offered. 

He laughed genuinely, “You have a bandage in your pocket?” You ripped your already torn sleeve from your arm. Shaking it a few times, you doubled it over and lightly draped it across the wound to act as a standing plaster. 

“This’ll at least keep you from losing blood until someone comes along,” you finished. “Whenever that is.” You adjusted his shirt back in place, ignoring his attractive torso with a silent gulp. 

“Think I’m a goner? You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily,” he told you. You sat back on your heels and bit your lip, building courage. 

“What exactly is going to happen to me if we get out of here?” you asked. Your fingers twitched, so you gripped your pants to stave off the nerves. 

“That depends,” he said, folding his hands behind his head. 

“On?” you pressured. 

“On who finds us,” he reasoned. “If it’s my crew, we’ll be good. If it’s the cops,we’ll probably be arrested. If it’s Wolf’s gang--” Vagabond’s eyes bulged. “Well, let’s hope it’s one of the first two options.” 

You gulped and continued your questioning, “That whole thing with that guy - Wolfe. You protected me. Why?”

“I’m not your white knight, honey,” Vagabond laughed. “But I wasn’t going to let you die over Wolfe’s ridiculous shit.”

“So, you kept me alive to kill me later?” you said with a tremble in your voice. 

Vagabond rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion, “I’m not going to kill you.” You sighed and returned to your spot a comfortable distance away. 

“You did a good job, though,” he complimented. “With the gun. I’m surprised, actually.” 

You raised your eyebrow and chuckled at the criminal, “Surprised I didn’t accidentally shoot you?” 

“That too,” he pointed out. “I’m very grateful for that.” 

“So was this your crew’s first robbery?” you inquired. You felt so innocent to the line of questioning, but since he promised he wouldn’t kill you, and you had time to pass with nothing else to do, you worked with what was common between you and Vagabond. 

“Oh, God no,” he answered. “We’ve been around the block once or twice. Actually, robbing banks is my favorite thing to do.” 

“Do you often abscond with your hostages and fall through buildings?” you jested, feeling a little more comfortable with his company. 

He laughed and met your eyes, shaking his head, “You’re my first.” Vagabond shot you a flirting wink with a smile that made your core quiver. 

You blushed. You weren’t sure why you did, but there it was, creeping over your cheeks. You dipped your head, hoping he wouldn’t notice, while you silently cursed yourself for flirting with a murder. What kind of moron does that?

“You wanna know why I picked you?” Vagabond said, moving closer to you. His voice was more baritone than before. Almost as though something changed. 

“What do you mean?” you asked, your face red and in full view. 

“Out of all of those people that walked by, I chose you,” he said, pausing less than a foot from your face. “Don’t tell me you didn’t ask yourself why.” 

“I guess--” you stammered. “I guess I figured I was unlucky today.” You licked your lips, and Vagabond’s eyes flicked to the action momentarily. When his eyes returned to yours, they were dark. His pupils were wide with what you recognized as desire. 

He rested his hand on your knee, but you didn’t pull away. He gently traced his fingers across the plane of your thigh, and you opened them in response, like he was a hypnotist manipulating your body. You wanted to stop yourself as you placed your hand on his chest and dragged it across the broad surface, feeling every muscle underneath the thin veil of his shirt. 

“Unlucky?” Vagabond sounded upset, but it didn’t break his spirit as he thumbed the button on your jeans, swiftly undoing it. 

His face was inches from yours. He was close enough for you to see the nerves in the irises of his eyes. He looked dangerous, but, this time, it turned you on. He ghosted his fingers over your center as he pulled down the zipper. You bit your lip and nodded, letting your eyes fall closed. 

He brushed his thumb over your sensitive spot, and you couldn’t help but moan. Your eyes shot open when a growl left his throat. He circled his thumb over your clit in a gentle skim while you kept gaze.

“I chose you because you seemed like you could handle yourself under pressure,” he continued. “I was sure you could stay graceful even in the face of some strong intimidation. I’m pretty damn good at reading people. Was I right?” 

Vagabond pressed his thumb firmly on your sensitive bundle of nerves, to which you yelped. He directed a motion that didn’t give you much room for escape, so you were forced to take his brash attack with nothing but airy moans. He chuckled and brushed his lips against yours. 

“Oh, I like that sound,” he praised. “Let’s see what other noises you can make.” 

You grew wetter with each passing second, as the villain worked you to a frenzy without even breaking the barrier of your panties. He twisted, paused, and reversed his thumb’s work, all the while refusing to kiss you. You pistoned your hips forward in frustration, as your moans turned to whines. You were already terribly overstimulated and needed something more. 

“Please,” you begged. You placed your hand on his knee, hoping to hint at your growing desire. 

Vagabond jerked his hand away and tugged at your jeans. You lifted your hips to accommodate, and he tossed them aside carelessly. He swiftly undid the button on his own jeans, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap. 

Your hand dove to his length, and you rubbed it through his boxers roughly. He groaned and gripped your hips harder at the gesture. His eyes were dark and unrelenting while you worked him. You danced your fingers over the tip of his cock, making his eyes flutter momentarily. Intrigued, you tried the action again.

Vagabond brought his hand in a hard smack against your behind and growled, “I thought you wanted to fuck.” 

“God, yes,” you promised. 

“Then stop trying to make me come,” he said angrily. “Move these aside,” he instructed, pulling at your panties. 

You obliged and adjusted so your center was exposed over him. He made an inhuman noise at the sight of you, and he looked like he was fighting a hunger. 

“If we weren’t in a collapsed building, I’d _devour_ you,” he asserted as he bit his lower lip. 

Your hand darted to his boxers, and you helped him produce his cock. He released your hip and brought his fingers to his mouth, gathering saliva on them. He massaged his fingers over your slit and down his length in preparation. He positioned his hips directly under yours, and you directed his tip just south of your entrance. 

Vagabond lightly pressed into you, only allowing the tip of his size to penetrate your barrier. You gasped at the feeling, and he bit your lip in response. 

“Those fucking noises. You’re killing me,” he chastised. 

You eased yourself down on his length, letting a drawn out moan escape. His hand migrated to the back of your neck, and he finally captured your mouth in a kiss. It was softer than you expected. His tongue danced across your lips, so you allowed him entrance. 

Your tongues battled as he pressed deeper into your center. Soon, he was buried to the hilt. You cautiously moved back and forth, testing the feeling of Vagabond buried so deep. He clawed your hip and whimpered into your mouth. You pulled back to give him breathing room and noticed his eyes were fogged with dark lust. 

In that moment, you felt powerful. You were literally straddling danger, and making it crumble in the process. You smiled at the thought. Leaning backward, you rested your hands against his extended legs, giving Vagabond an unobstructed perspective. 

“Oh fuck,” he swore, running his hand from your neck down your chest. He teased his fingers across your panties, helping them aside even further. 

“Enjoying the view?” you inquired with sass. You didn’t wait for him to answer the rhetorical question and, instead, raised and lowered your hips slowly on his girth. 

“You have no idea, babe,” he praised. “You’re so warm.” 

His talented hands were roving you, and your body was humming with pleasure. His hips met yours the next time you hit the base, making you sit up at the sudden jolt. 

All at once, Vagabond took over. His hands were around your waist, and he found your lips again. The tip of his length found your special spot, and you cried out. His gaze turned malicious as he targeted the spot, only amplified by the dark circles of makeup around his eyes. Each time he pinned the spot, your body gravitated to a numb state. Your fingers started to tingle, and you lost feeling in your toes. To Vagabond, your moans were clear indication of a transformation. 

“Is that where I make you come?” he asked in a mocking tone. “It’s so soft.”

You couldn’t do much, save for nod. Your body was adrift with pleasure; your mind in the ethereal clouds in search of your release. You nearly forgot Vagabond was at the helm of your deliverance until his wicked thumb found your clit. He twisted it roughly as you slammed against his lap. 

“Come for me. Come on, baby,” he urged. His stare was intense, and he licked your bottom lip teasingly. 

He held your waist the next time he hit your soft spot, pinning you in place and preventing you from escaping your release any longer. You gave in and threw your head back with a loud moan. It was practically torn from you as Vagabond continued manipulating your clit. Still, he waited to feel your full orgasm before moving again. 

You nearly collapsed against his chest, but he pounded into your tender center with his own eagerness. With a few pumps, he reached his own end inside of you, pulling out at the last second after realizing. You grabbed his base and forced him back in, making him ride out the waves of his own orgasm to finish completely.

The pair of you sat motionless for a moment, your heaving breaths against each other adding to the now claustrophobic setting. When you were sure you could move without your legs failing, you raised yourself off of Vagabond’s length. You could still feel the fullness of his release inside of you while you positioned your panties appropriately. 

There was silence while you found your pants, and Vagabond tucked himself back into his jeans. You gave him a cursory glance, feeling a creeping sense of awkwardness at the entire situation. He noticed your stare and shot you a wink. 

“That was fucking hot,” he proclaimed, wiping his forehead of sweat. “Don’t you think?” 

Embarrassed, you looked at the ground and nodded. “Yeah, yeah it was.” Vagabond grabbed your waist and pulled you to his lap without question. 

“Don’t play coy, now,” he observed. “I saw the look in your eyes when you rode me. You loved it.” 

He brushed his nose against yours in a surprise show of affection. You giggled and nodded again, confirming your enjoyment in fucking a dangerous criminal. 

“It really was fucking hot,” you affirmed. Vagabond held the back of your neck, and you casually kissed, lost in a pleasurable dream. 

Across the dismantled room, some of the beams moved. You yelped, thinking the building was finally going to collapse on top of the pair of you. Instead, a figure burst through, barely peeking through a narrow way. 

“V?” he inquired. “Are you in there?” Vagabond sat forward, and you jumped off of his lap. He grabbed his jacket and maneuvered until he was on the opposite side of the wall. 

“Geoff?” he asked. 

“Holy shit, dude,” he replied with relief. “How the hell are you alive after all of that?” 

“Fuck if I know,” Vagabond answered. “If you get us out of here, we can discuss my hazard pay.” 

“Us?” Geoff responded. “Do you still have the hostage in there?” 

“Yes,” he said with annoyance in his tone. “Do you wanna know her social security number or are you gonna help us out?” 

“Yeah, sorry.” Geoff continued. “We’re gonna jimmy the concrete here, but you’re both going to have to haul ass out of there. The building’s not gonna hold up on its own once we start shifting stuff.” 

“Got it,” Vagabond answered. He turned to you and held out his hand, an indication for you to join him. “C’mon sweetheart, we’ve gotta move.” 

“On three,” Geoff instructed as you made it to Vagabond. You swiped his mask from the floor and handed it to Vagabond, and he stuffed it in his back pocket. Finally, Geoff was ready. 

“One, two, three!” 

The concrete moved, and Vagabond’s dominating hands shoved you through before he followed suit. You scrambled to move as far away from the decrepit building as possible. It wasn’t long before you heard the rest of it collapse due to the lack of structural integrity. 

You looked up and saw the faces of what you surmised to be the rest of the gang. They were slapping Vagabond’s back in congratulations and relief. He accepted the praise with little humility, and you listened to him brag about the surprise raid of Wolfe’s crew. 

“...And she helped,” he finished, motioning to you. Simultaneously, the group looked at you, making your face flush. You nearly had forgotten this was a band of murdering thieves until all attention was in your direction. 

“And I promise not to say a word,” you assured. A few of them narrowed their eyes at your suggestion, making you gulp. 

“She’s good on her word,” Vagabond confirmed. “Trust me.” 

Apparently, that’s all the gang needed to hear, for they started moving toward the back alley opposite you where their getaway vehicle was parked. You felt a hint of sadness when you Vagabond’s eyes and realized he was leaving. 

He let the group leave before reaching out to you. He smiled and pulled you flush against his chest, capturing your lips in a harsh kiss. 

“Thank you for saving me,” you mentioned. “Even though you _did_ kidnap me in the first place.” Vagabond laughed and gave you another peck. 

“I’ll see you again,” he asserted, turning in the direction of his band of misfits in an old-timey car.

“How do you know that? You don’t even know my name,” you complained. 

Vagabond adorned his skull mask, but turned to shoot you a wink. 

“Don’t worry, babe” he promised with a dangerous, lust-filled tone. “I’ll find you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking, "But why are you writing NEW one-shots when you're supposed to be working on updating Lesser of Two Evils? Will you ever finish Out of the Woods? Do you know how much emotional turmoil you're putting me through because of your lack of focus?" Well, pump your brakes, pumpkin, I'm getting around to it. 
> 
> Enjoy another chapter for this one in short order while you wait with bated breath. Any man of action like Vagabond always gets my blood pumping. Yes, I have a particular type.


End file.
